


Shadows

by IreneADonovan



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Blind Character, Canon Disabled Character, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles Xavier in a Wheelchair, Chess, Disabled Character, Erik is a Sweetheart, First Meetings, M/M, POV Charles, Vampires (of a sort), Whiskey & Scotch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 12:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24849835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneADonovan/pseuds/IreneADonovan
Summary: Charles is on his way home when he encounters a blind man, new to the neighborhood and a little bit lost...This is a vampire fic, but the vampires found herein are not the classic undead blood-drinkers. They are very much alive and feed on psychic energy.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Irene Adler/Raven Darkholme (background)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the following tweet. I just fell in love with the idea of Erik as a visually-impaired vampire, and this is the result.
> 
> Also, Erik's level of vision is based on what mine was when it was at its worst. There's definitely a personal component to this fic.

Charles pushed himself down the sidewalk, a grocery sack balanced on his lap. There was the barest tang of autumn in the air, just enough to make him glad he hadn't shed his tweed jacket, not near enough to make him regret deciding not to drive.

He came around the corner onto his street and was surprised to see a man standing on the sidewalk a few houses down, motionless, head cocked to the side. "Excuse me," he called. "Are you lost?"

The man's head jerked in surprise, then he turned to face Charles. The soft orange glow of the streetlamps illumined his lean frame and sparked warm highlights in his auburn hair. "I suppose I am," he said with a wry chuckle.

Charles took in the white cane held loosely in the man's hand, the dark glasses he wore. "You're blind," he blurted.

"Very astute of you." The man's tone was dry, but he was smiling. He made a soft clicking sound with his tongue, then listened for a moment. Echolocation, Charles realized. "And you use a wheelchair," he observed. "So now that we've compared disabilities, can we get down to business? What street am I on?"

"Chestnut."

The man swore softly. "I think I'm one street off."

"Were you looking for Elm or Walnut?"

The man sighed. "Beech, actually."

"You're two streets off."

"Fuck." The man massaged his forehead. "I hate having to learn a new neighborhood."

"Would you like me to show you to Beech?"

The man wanted to refuse, Charles could see, but finally he nodded. "That would be good, if you don't mind."

"Not a problem. Follow me. Or would you rather grab the back of my chair?"

The man's pink lips compressed as he considered, then he shook his head. "Neither. Let me try it on my own. Just let me know if I get off track."

"All right," Charles said, backing into someone's driveway to allow the other man to pass. "I'm Charles, by the way. Charles Xavier."

"Erik Lehnsherr." Erik walked back toward the corner, his cane making a soft grating noise as it traced sweeping arcs along the sidewalk. Instead of the earlier clicking sounds, Erik was now making low, rhythmic whistles, his face a mask of concentration.

Once Erik was past, Charles fell in behind him. Erik turned at the corner, walked briskly to the next corner, then stopped. He let out a short, sharp cry, tilted his head as he listened to the echoes. "Does the street curve here?" he asked.

"Yes."

"This must be where I got screwed up. I thought it was just an extra-wide street. I wasn't paying enough attention to the echoes." He turned carefully, angling his body toward the opposite curb, then set off again until he reached the end of the short block. He paused, asked, "Beech, right?"

"Yeah."

Erik turned right, followed the new street for about half a block, paused again, this time exploring a sharply canted driveway with his cane. He then passed one more house before sweeping his cane farther to the right as he continued, until his cane made contact with a mailbox set in brick. "I'm home," he declared. "Thank you."

"Not a problem," Charles said.

"Can I at least offer you a drink or something? I've got a decent selection of whiskies."

"You said the magic words," Charles said with a grin. "Decent and whiskies."

Erik smiled, his teeth gleaming white in the soft lamplight. "C'mon then." He led the way up his walk, unlocked his door, stepped inside.

Charles balanced on his back wheels and powered up and over the single step, finding himself in a small foyer that emptied directly into the living room.

Erik had stepped over to a dimmer knob on the wall, and as Charles watched, he slid his dark glasses off and brought the lights up to low. "Will this be enough light for you?" he asked. "I'm afraid my eyes are very light-sensitive. This lets me make the most of what little vision I have left. I can turn the light up more, but I'll need to put my glasses back on."

"It's fine," Charles said, because it was. It wasn't enough for something like reading, but it was more than enough to keep from crashing into things.

"Good." Erik set his glasses down on a small table just underneath the dimmer knob. There were three other pairs lined up on the table, and he carefully placed the ones he'd been wearing into its slot between the others, then he hung his cane on a hook a little to the side of the table and knob.

He turned back toward Charles, who was struck by just how handsome he was, face and body limned by the soft light. High cheekbones, a strong jaw softened by a short ginger beard, luminous aqua-grey eyes, unfocused but hardly unattractive. Broad shoulders, a criminally narrow waist. "Charles?" Erik asked after a short silence.

Charles chuckled nervously, knowing he'd been caught staring. "Just noticing how good-looking you are," he said, opting for honesty.

Erik laughed. "I'll have to take your word for that. I haven't seen my own face in a couple of decades."

"I could show you," Charles blurted. "If you want. I'm a telepath."

Erik looked startled.

Please don't be a mutantphobe, Charles thought.

But Erik grinned and Charles felt a gentle tugging on the watch on his wrist. "I'll show you my power if you show me yours."

"All right."

"Let me get our drinks first," Erik said. "Make yourself comfortable. I'm told the couch is as comfortable as it looks."

It looked really inviting, overstuffed, covered in velvety burgundy fabric. "Sold," Charles said.

Erik chuckled as he turned and walked off, a slightly-outstretched hand and the soft clicking of his tongue the only concessions to his blindness.

Charles wheeled over to the couch, set his groceries down, locked his wheels, set his feet on the floor, and swung his body onto the plush surface. He bit back a groan of pleasure as his upper body settled into the soft support. It had been a long day, and his back and shoulders ached with weary tension.

After a long, blissful minute, he straightened his feet and adjusted his position just a little, then sank back against the cushions.

Erik reappeared then, a bottle in one hand, two tumblers in the other. He crossed the room with careful precision but without hesitation, pausing by the coffee table, nudging it with his knee, then setting bottle and glasses down.

He sat on the other end of the couch, said, "Do you want me to pour? Some people object to my having my finger in the glass."

"That's how you tell when to stop, right?"

"Yeah, but most people don't know that."

Charles shrugged. "My sister-in-law Irene is blind."

Erik laughed, short and startled. "She wouldn't happen to be a mobility instructor?"

"You know her?"

"She's the one who's been helping me figure out this neighborhood." Erik chuckled. "She did tell me her brother-in-law lived here and that I'd run into him."

"You know she's a precog, right?"

"Yeah. I just didn't expect to run into you this quick." He leaned forward, fingertips skimming the surface of the coffee table, locating bottle and glasses with a couple of quick touches. He opened the bottle, a good Irish, hooked his finger over the rim of one glass, poured, repeated with the other glass.

He took a tumbler in each hand, held one out to Charles. Their fingers brushed as Charles took it, and he definitely wasn't imagining the frisson of attraction that shivered out from the contact point. "You're new to the neighborhood. Are you new to the city as well?"

Erik took a short sip before answering. "I grew up in the city, but then I went west for college and stayed." Charles could sense a wariness in Erik's answer, something he didn't want to talk about. "Then an old friend talked me into a job here. But I'd forgotten what a pain in the ass it is to learn a new area. I could still see when I left town."

"What do you do?" Charles asked. He took a sip of his own whiskey. Delightful.

"I'm going to be teaching at the university. Botany."

Charles grinned. "Then we're colleagues. Same college, even. I teach genetics."

Erik laughed. "No wonder Irene was so sure we'd meet." He took another swallow of whiskey, and Charles' eyes locked on the movement of the muscles of his long throat. "She also said I should ask you what gym you use."

"Murdock's, over on Fifth. If you're free in the morning, I could take you over, show you around."

"I'd like that."

"Is seven too early?"

"That works."

Charles' gaze fell on the chess set on the coffee table. He'd noticed it but hadn't paid enough attention to realize it was a bit unusual. "Could I take a closer look at that chess set?" he asked, setting his glass on the end table.

"You play?" Erik's hands traced over the table, lifted the set, held it out to Charles.

"I do." Charles took the set, the wood of the board smooth in his hands. It was travel-sized and rather ingeniously designed to make it easier for a visually-impaired player to use. The squares were set on two different levels, and the pieces were simply but distinctively shaped, with pegs to hold them in place. "This is lovely."

"Care for a game?"

"Love to. Black or white?"

"Guest goes first." Erik took another sip of whiskey, then set his tumbler down and moved to sit sideways.

Charles set the board on the middle cushion then repositioned his arse, pulled his left knee up, and leaned back against the couch arm. "Do you want me to call out my moves?"

"You don't have to," Erik said, "but it's a little quicker."

Charles made his move. "Nf3."

Erik grinned, and the game was on.

Erik played aggressively, but with a certain deviousness that tested Charles' own ability, and for a while they both remained mostly quiet, focused.

After a particularly sneaky move, Erik grinned and downed the remains of his drink, then he turned, fingers skimming the surface of the table. "Would you like another?"

"I would." Charles took the last swallow of his drink as Erik refilled his own, then he pressed his glass into Erik's outstretched hand.

Erik filled it but paused before handing it back. "Were you serious about that offer? About letting me take a look through your eyes?"

"If you'd like."

Erik held out Charles' glass, and Charles took it. "I would. But not to see my face. I'd much rather see someone else." He made a sharp clicking sound, different from the one he used for echolocation, and Charles heard an answering chirrup followed by frantic meowing, then a white blur streaked across the living room and launched itself at Erik.

Erik winced a little at the impact, then his hands closed on the startlingly-tiny cat. "Charles, this is Diana." Then he laughed. "I did _not_ think about that juxtaposition of names."

Charles chuckled. "She's lovely." She was tiny but long bodied, mostly white, with a black tail and black splotches on her head and down her back. Her front paws were planted on Erik's chest, and she was wriggling frantically and meowing as he petted her. "She won't stay long. I think she's got the feline equivalent of ADHD."

Oh, right. He slid into the outer layers of Erik's mind. "This okay?"

"You're good." Erik's voice was a little tight.

Charles projected the image of what he saw.

Erik's brows lifted, and he grinned in surprise and delight. "She's beautiful." He stroked a hand down her back, and she arched into the touch. "I've had her a dozen years. People have described her to me, but it's not the same. Not at all." His unseeing eyes were damp with unshed tears. "Thank you."

"Any time."

Diana wiggled free of Erik's loose grasp then and stepped onto the chessboard, making Charles glad the pieces were held in place. She sniffed delicately at his leg, then prodded at it with one paw, meowing softly as she gazed at him with eyes the color of his sister's.

"She wants you to pet her."

Charles reached out and let her sniff his hand, then he skritched the top of her head as she closed her eyes and leaned into it.

Only to launch herself away a moment later, shooting out of the living room like the hounds of hell were on her heels.

Erik laughed. "Shall we finish our game?"

**Author's Note:**

> Comments appreciated!


End file.
